


Lessons

by Sigma



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/M, Slow Burn, very slow burn and yes I mean you victory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:47:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24793366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigma/pseuds/Sigma
Summary: Inspired by Pongnosis' extraordinary Devil and the Deep Blue Sea and Dulce Periculum by wewillalwaysenduphere but with a significant AU where Alex is female.....which makes most things the same but some things somewhat different.  Including Alex herself.Set post D&TDBS canon, but pre epilogue.Oh, and I am British - so British spelling ahoy!
Relationships: Yassen Gregorovich/Alex Rider
Comments: 70
Kudos: 114
Collections: Devil and the Deep Blue Sea Inspired Works





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pongnosis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pongnosis/gifts), [wewillalwaysenduphere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewillalwaysenduphere/gifts), [galimau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galimau/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10222295) by [pongnosis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pongnosis/pseuds/pongnosis). 



> _Inspired by Pongnosis' extraordinary Devil and the Deep Blue Sea and Dulce Periculum by wewillalwaysenduphere but with a significant AU where Alex is female.....which makes most things the same but some things somewhat different. Including Alex herself._
> 
> _Set post D &TDBS canon, but pre epilogue._
> 
> _Oh, and I am British - so British spelling ahoy!_

It was one of those rare occasions these days where they were both in the same place for once, sleeping under the same roof. Alex had flown in after three months leading an operation in Colombia to provide her after action report, to be debriefed and to receive her next assignment, and he was half way through an operation in South Africa that needed his personal attention. Admittedly, he could have probably debriefed her over the phone, but in person was more secure, and as she still had an annoying tendency to gloss over any injuries she might have received he wanted to check in on her personally. 

So he had debriefed her and had given her her new assignment, Board member to Orion, and then ensured she ate and cleaned up, Yassen to Alex, and now they were both engaged in the never ending stream of paperwork and reports that it took to keep Scorpia functioning effectively, the only sound in the living room of the hotel suite the soft sound of their mutual breathing, a few sighs and shifts and clicks of pens and press of keys and the regular rustle of paper being turned. It was familiar, and as close as Yassen allowed himself to comforting, and even with the endless amount of paperwork to plow through he found himself as close to relaxed as he ever got these days. 

Until Alex decided to completely wreck his Zen in totally typical fashion. 

The first he knew of it was the slow cessation of the pace at which she was working her way through her reports, the gaps between the soft sussuration of the pages lengthening. Then there was a feeling he had become very accustomed to over the last five years since he had, for all intents and purposes kidnapped her, even if she had gone semi willingly, the weight of her staring at the top of his head bent over his reports.

If she had just glanced over for a few moments he would have ignored her and focused back on his work. But she was still looking minutes later, and it was difficult to ignore the heaviness of her attention when she clearly wasn't simply waiting for orders, or tracking his movements as she had in her younger days when she was simply his partner, or his second, rather than the heir in training to Scorpia. Sometimes he missed that a little, the focused attentiveness on him, the overt loyalty and willingness to obey without question that she had displayed in public, and which the other executive board members had been seethingly jealous of. Yassen's bitch, they had called her, as well as other, less savoury names, but he'd known they would have killed without thinking to have an agent of Orion's increasing calibre so devoted. 

But now the executive Board were mostly gone, and it was just him and Dr Three, who was getting very close to retirement now, and Alex was more than just his partner, or his second. Rather she was his deputy, his right hand, the one person he could trust to get things done for him to the standard he expected when he couldn't be in all places at once, and so he couldn't afford to be so indulgent as to have her physical presence at his back all the time. But he still missed it, more than he would have admitted to anyone, and especially her.

But just because they weren't physically together very often didn't mean he couldn't decipher the quality of her stares, and this was clearly, _I have a question/want to talk about something_ , rather than a simple once over of his person. He ignored her for a few more minutes until he had finished his paragraph, and initialed his comments, and then looked up at her where she was curled up on the massive sectional couch, her own papers strewn chaotically around her, and raised an enquiring eyebrow. 

“Yes?”

She stopped even pretending to work and pulled her long legs into her and wrapped her arms around them as she rested her chin on her knees and returned his look, brown eyes wide. It made her look even younger than her 19 years, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise up in recognition of Rider in chaotic mode. He'd become far too familiar with the signs over the last handful of years not to.

She hesitated in what she was going to say, cocked her head and studied him even more intensely, and despite himself he felt a spark of amusement at the focus on her face. She was far less of an open book to him than she had been when she 14, but just as she had imprinted on him, and adapted to his requirements, he had studied her just as intensively in those five months stuck in that cabin together, especially as she was (at least for the first few months) so quiet that he had to learn to read the minutiae of her expressions and the quality of her silences to truly understand what was going on in her head. Because at least initially, she certainly wasn't going to tell him. So he could still read the expression on her face easily, especially as she wasn't trying particularly hard to stop him. This was Rider expression, 1.4, her I-know-I'm-going-to-say-something-you-don't-like-but-I'm-going-to-say-it-anyway, look. 

Mind clearly made up she shifted into a more upright position and stated her piece.

“I think you should teach me about sex,” she stated firmly.

Despite his expectation that whatever she was going to say was going to disturb his relaxation, he certainly hadn't expected **that** , and he stilled even further, maintaining eye contact with his second for a long moment, watching outwardly analytically as her fragile veneer of brash self confidence was betrayed by the flush of rose on pale gold skin. Then he shook his head briefly and looked back down at his report.

“No.”

He could hear the scrabble of her bare feet on the couch as she shifted and he could picture her face without even seeing it, that mulishly stubborn tilt to her chin that she got whenever she was preparing to state her arguments, and berate him with logic in the hope of wearing him down and inwardly sighed. Sometimes he really missed the initial unquestioning obedience of her early days with him, even if it was essential to her development as future head of Scorpia to be able to make her case, and argue her position. It just sometimes felt that he was growing a lawyer, rather than the future head of an international crime syndicate. 

“I've been giving it some thought.” Her voice was very carefully level, and polite, but he could tell she had no intention of letting this go until she had spoken her piece. And clearly if she had been thinking about this for a while and felt it was serious enough to raise with him, the subject wasn't something he felt he could just order her to shut up about. That would just be taking the easy way out, and that wasn't how he ran his life, or the business. Plus, he had to admit that there was a part of him that wanted to hear what she had to say. So he sighed inwardly again, put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, indicating with his eyebrow that she had his attention. She looked just a little startled at his sudden capitulation but covered that up quickly and pushed brashly further on. So Alex. So _Rider_. It was amazing that he'd survived the last 5 years without having a heart attack from sheer stress at the insane things she did. 

“I'm already dealing with senior level operatives, clients, and various contacts globally, and I'm not a child anymore, so they don't treat me like one. And if everything goes to plan at some point I'm going to be taking over from you. And I think that I'm at a disadvantage if I don't know anything about sex.”

“There's always the internet,” he interjected dryly.

She rolled her eyes at him, an expressiveness that she would never have indulged in outside the select company of him, Jack or Thom.

“That gives me technical knowledge. But it doesn't apply it to _me_. It's all purely theoretical. But how can I tell if a client has other motives, or if I could use another angle on them, or even if they are trying to use another angle on _me_ , if I don't know anything about sex from a practical standpoint?” 

She was terribly earnest, although clearly still a little embarrassed, but she was offering the problem to him the way she used to with all of her other issues, bluntly, honestly, genuinely asking for his input, and he had to bite back a pang of nostalgia. It had been a while since she had done this, as he had been encouraging her to make her own decisions and then justify them, rather than seeking his opinion before taking action, but clearly this was different.

“Well, what have you considered?”

She bit her lip, and hummed as she started counting off options on her fingers and he was inwardly both amused and reassured that he could still predict her so well. 

“I could try and find a casual partner,” she stated, and he had to hold back an entirely gut level pulse of negation that genuinely took him by surprise at the intensity of it. “But that would be a security nightmare, and either I or Sagitta would probably end up killing him during the process. Because I think it would probably be a him. Girls are lovely, but I think blokes are more my thing. So that's out. Or I could try and hook up with another operative, but that could be even more problematic. There is the issue of personal safety, I don't think I could relax enough to learn anything if I was that vulnerable with another Malagosto graduate who specialises in assassination. I mean I'm good, but I'm not as strong as most men, and there's a lot of vulnerability involved in sex for a woman, at least from what I've seen on the internet.” She rattled off her thoughts, and he listened and tried not to want to kill the nameless figures she was suggesting, a little perturbed by his own reaction. He'd always been possessive of Alex, ever since he'd first seen her when he thought she was a scrawny boy and John Rider's son. But it had never been sexual. 

At least he hadn't thought it had been. At least not until now.

“Or I could try and persuade one of Sagitta to co-operate,” she made a face, clearly telegraphing her opinion of that option. “But one, they are like the world's most paranoid big brothers and would be horrified by the suggestion, two, the very idea makes me shudder, and three, it would completely disrupt our dynamic and the functioning of the unit, so I'm not going there. Tom is gay of course, so that's not going to work. So I came down to three actual options.”

Despite himself, he couldn't help but ask, just as she expected him to.

“Which are?”

“I somehow manage to claw out some time in my operational schedule with your permission and go back to Malagosto and undertake the seduction course.”

“ _No_.” The harsh negation was out of his mouth before he could even stop it, an instinctive gut level reaction and she looked a little surprised by his vehemence. But the idea of John Rider's child, his _Alex_ , having to learn how to whore her body out as he had under the cool sadism of Malagosto's swallow trainers made his stomach churn. He had spent years making sure she would never have to deal with the shit that he had had to in the immediate years after John's death and that wasn't going to change now.

She looked at him, at whatever was in his eyes when he looked at her, and looked a little taken aback. Enough that she hesitated before she continued until he prompted her.

“Your other options?”

She shrugged, still looking a little wary of his reaction. “I hire a professional to come in and teach me. Either a swallow graduate from Malagosto who we can vet, and who isn't going to be too much of a danger to me, or an outside professional that we can do a deep background on and hire for an intensive period. But there are security risks with both of those options.”

“Which is why you decided to broach this with me?” His tone was dust-bowl dry, and she flushed further, shifting on the couch before gathering that indomitable Rider courage and recklessness around her again like a cloak.

“You've taught me everything else. Why not this?” He raised his other eyebrow at her sceptically. This wasn't just another session at the range, or a bout of hand to hand or even a download on negotiation tactics and she knew that. 

“I know,” she hesitated and blushed a little more, “that you've done a lot of missions like that before. You've told me, or other people have. I know you know what I would need to learn, or what to look for when people would try and use sex to manipulate me.” He was silent as she continued, still flushed. “And if it was you, I wouldn't have to worry about security, or being....vulnerable, and I could concentrate properly on what you were teaching me.”

She'd clearly said her piece and huddled back into the couch, clasped her knees and waited for his response. He closed his eyes briefly and internally sent a prayer to a deity that he didn't believe in to give him strength before he looked back at her.

Because the problem was, she had a point.

In the high tempo pace of operations that they been involved in over the last five years together there had hardly been a moment for Alex to catch her breath, or take a few hours off, and certainly no time for her to indulge in the normal periods of sexual experimentation so typical to teenagers. Instead in a way she'd been closed up in the next best thing to a nunnery, except with her the bars were not religion but an extremely vigilant security team, Yassen's and the Executive Board's life and death expectations of her and the attendant stress and exhaustion from the constant grind to prove that she deserved the responsibility that had been piled on her from such an early age. 

He opened his eyes and looked her over analytically. It was rather amazing that she'd managed to get to the age she was as unenlightened in this area as she was, considering she worked for an international criminal syndicate that included prostitution and sex trafficking amongst its roster of operations. But the Alex he had first met, and essentially recruited under not a small amount of coercion had been scrawny, gangly and frankly androgynous, with a boy's shaggy and rather horrendously unflattering hair cut that had thrust upon her before she had been dumped at the SAS camp for her initial training. Shock, grief, stress, lack of available food and excessive exercise had affected her badly and essentially stopped her development in its tracks so she still looked far more like a young boy than a girl. Although he had started feeding her better at the cabin, it still didn't make up for the stress and excessive exercise she was subjecting her body to, and she had been suffering from undiagnosed amenorrhoea until he took her for her baseline medical tests before she enrolled at Malagosto. He had been silently furious, initially at her, and then at himself when he realised that she had never mentioned that she hadn't had a period for the time they had been stuck together, and he had very atypically not even thought that it was strange that she hadn't asked for sanitary products for the whole extent of their isolation. But then he shouldn't have expected her to know at 14 without any female guidance or the internet that what she was suffering from wasn't normal, after all who was she going to ask?

He had made sure that Dr Javadi was aware at Malagosto and she had put Alex on a healthy high calorie diet to get her body fat levels up a bit, but the pressures put on her at the camp and the subsequent operational tempo meant that it was over a year before she really started developing again. He worried about it, just one more thing in the long list of things she gave him to worry about, but in some ways it was safer for her in the shark infested waters she was swimming in with the executive board if she looked like a boy so he didn't push the issue. And he could tell from her baggy clothes and the fact that she maintained her boy's haircut that she was more comfortable in her more neutral garb while the board's attention was on them both. 

It was only once most of the board were removed when she was nearly 16 that she really started to develop again, and it was as if nature had taken offence at being stymied and had hit everything full throttle. In the space of 9 months she grew another inch to her full adult height of nearly 5”10, her hips developed distracting curves, her upper body filled out and her face changed from boyish through to pretty into strikingly attractive, her features finally reaching their proper proportions as she gained her adult shape. By the time she was 17 she was arresting, but by the time she was 18 she was, he had to admit, classically beautiful, a woman to turn mens' heads and the combination of her looks, her air of youthful athleticism and the scent of predatorial danger that she sub-consciously exuded was catnip to far too many of the dangerous men (and women) she spent most of her time with. She had even at Jack's instigation grown her hair out of its scraggy short cut, and although most of the time she kept it severely braided back in a neat French pleat (frequently embellished with a thermoplastic stiletto hair spike he'd given her for her last birthday), just now in the relaxation of their hotel suite it was loose, and fell in soft blond waves and curls across her shoulders as she regarded him.

In other words she was beautiful. Beautiful, young, and ripe for the kind of emotional and physical exploitation that was only too common for young women. And she was clearly at least abstractly aware of her possible vulnerability in that area, even with her ever present security and Sagitta watching over her like a posse of slightly crazed big brothers. So she had a point that by not allowing her to learn about sex and the power that lust and desire could have over otherwise sane and logical personalities he was leaving her wide open to possible exploitation.

And she had even been quite convincing with her arguments and the way she had set out her options. There were too many security risks involved in her taking a civilian lover, or even using a professional, and there was no way he was going to allow her to undertake the swallow course at Malagosto while he was alive. So that left her with very few options of which he was the most sensible. She trusted him. If he wanted her dead or hurt he could do that at any time. She'd long ago given him that right, and he still knew that she would willingly take a bullet for him if he required her too. So there was no additional risk to her in the inherent vulnerability of a woman involved in having sex. And of course there was no real security risk. All she was asking for was for him to do what he had always done since she was 14, give her the tools to ensure her safety from a possible weakness. And he could.

The problem is, he didn't know if he wanted to. Or even if he should.

And for once he wasn't sure if it was Alex's best interests he was thinking of, or of his own. 

He had always been possessive of her since she had throw her lot in with him. She was _his_. _His_ partner, _his_ right hand, _his_ second in command. She belonged to him, not just in his eyes, but in Scorpia's. Even the Executive Board had been careful in manipulating her as she might as well have had a giant neon sign over her head that flashed, “ _Property of Yassen Gregorovich._ ”

That hadn't changed over the years since, even with the frequent distance between them and the gaps in their face to face interaction. Every time he saw her face again, there was that momentary shock that she was actually now an adult woman, and a beautiful one at that instead of the scrawny child he had first acquired, and then a deeper pulse of possessiveness. _Mine_ , went his gut, every single time, and the idea of anyone else touching what was his, let alone intimately, made every part of him want to reject the very concept with extreme prejudice.

But if he did this, took her into his bed, taught her everything that he knew about sex and seduction, showed her how it could be, if he knew her like that.....he didn't know if he would be able to revert to his previous attitude to her once he had had her. And he didn't know if he would be able to stop himself from using all the skills that Malagosto had hammered into him to bind her to him, until she would never be able to look at another, male or female, without comparing them to what he had shown her sex could be like, without them coming up wanting. And was that fair of him when he had already taken so many of Alex's choices away from her already, already manipulated and pushed and pressed her into doing what he wanted so many times, conditioned and shaped her into what she was and essentially condoned her to a lifetime of constant distrust of every potential partner, where she was always going to be safer alone. Plus, he knew himself well. He was an obsessive man, as well as a possessive one, and once he had had her, stretched her out across the sheets of his bed and taken that last part of her that was still his to take, once he had stitched his claim across every part of her being, he doubted his ability to walk away again. And that was a weakness. And he couldn't afford those. Ever.

He had been scrutinising her while he thought, but he had been quiet enough for long enough that she was starting to look a little uncomfortable at his silent examination. Eventually he shifted, breaking the stare off and she looked at him, wide eyed and waiting for his answer, a bubble of nerves that she would never admit to percolating in her gut.

“I'll think about it.”

That was better than earlier. It wasn't a flat no, at least. She sat up straight, galvanised to further push her case. She could work with this. “Yassen....”

He waved for her to be silent and she automatically shut up, habits too deeply embedded taking over and raised an eyebrow at her. “I said, I'll think about it.”

She bit back a pout with extreme strength of will but she could tell from the distant amusement in his eyes that she hadn't been entirely successful. “I mean it Alex. I _will_ think about it. But for now, go to bed. You have an early start tomorrow.”

It was a suggestion that cusped on the edge of an order and she wilted, too used to that tone of his to argue. When he used that voice pushing him anymore could tip him over the edge into exasperation, or worse, disappointment at her lack of control, and she hated on a gut level to let him down in any way. So she nodded, a little subdued, and gathered up her materials from the couch and stood up.

“Night then.”

He nodded, but as she reached the door to her room spoke once more. “Alex.” She turned to look at him. “I _will_ think about and I'll let you know my decision when we see each other again.” 

She nodded and smiled at him. “Thanks. Sleep well.”

There was a trace of a smile in his voice as well when he responded, although she doubted anyone but her would have heard it. “You too.”

But out of the two of them it was ironically Yassen that slept less well that night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _So the muse struck again.....damned thing! :-)_

“Alex.” His reiteration of her name fell unexpectedly into the industrious quiet between them as they worked on their respective piles of documents. She glanced up at him automatically, still a little distracted by her paperwork, and then straightened from her perch on the couch as the quality of the look he was giving her registered. Considering, assessing, something that she couldn't quite parse glittering in the depths of his blue eyes, and she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise in that confused combination of watchfulness and curiosity that the unexpected from Yassen always brought out in her. 

It was an embedded reaction, but not an unreasonable one, for the unanticipated from Yassen Gregorovich had been responsible for the majority of the seismic (and frequently painful) events in her young life. So while she had learned to adapt to his requirements, she had also learned to be circumspect about how potentially traumatic or painful those adaptations would end up being. She wasn't a masochist, she didn't enjoy pain for the sake of it, and an unexpected glint in her mentor's eye had often found her thrust into situations where pain, whether physical, mental or emotional was the price to be paid for his requirements. So she was wary when she responded.

“Yes?”

He cocked his head analytically as he regarded her and then seemed to come to some decision, and reached out a hand from where he was sitting behind the large stand alone desk in the living room of the latest hotel suite in an unmistakable summoning gesture. Confused, she slipped from the couch and padded over. He tapped the corner of his desk. “Sit.” Obediently, she perched on the top, legs swinging free and waited for whatever he wanted, still a little confused, and a little guarded.

In this position her perspective was higher than his and she looked down at him expectantly as he lounged back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him, long fingers playing with his pen.

“I have been thinking about what you asked me in South Africa.”

She frowned. South Africa? That had been six months ago. What was he referring to? Then she realised, and to her embarrassment felt herself flush a little.

“Oh.” She muttered, so quietly he hardly heard her, and he looked a little amused by her evident discomfort.

“Yes, 'oh'. You are very articulate tonight, Alexandra.” He was definitely amused now, and she flushed a little more, and shrugged. 

“Well, when you didn't bring it up last time we met in Moscow I assumed you'd decided against. Or you'd forgotten.”

He raised an eyebrow. “It was not exactly the kind of thing I would forget,” he commented dryly, and that bloody flush on her fair skin deepened. His glance followed the rush of colour down her neck to where her t-shirt hugged her skin and when he looked back at her there was that something she couldn't quite read in his eyes again, that charge that goose-bumped her skin in its potential for the unknown. But before she could put a finger on exactly what it was he continued, and she automatically paid full attention. 

“As I said I would, I gave it some thought, and I have come to the conclusion that you are correct. This is something that you should learn if you are not to be at a disadvantage going forward, especially once you take over from me as sole head of Scorpia.” She bit back her urge to agree with his conclusion, and kept quiet to let him continue. “And you were also broadly correct as to your concerns with the various options you outlined.” He turned his pen in his fingers again, watching the movement. She realised it was as close to a tell that he was slightly uncomfortable with the conversation as she was likely to get, and she only knew that because she had spent the last five, nearly six years now, learning the minutiae of his body language and expressions in order to correctly anticipate and obey his orders without him actually having to articulate them. 

“I have discounted the possibility of bringing in an outside professional, not just because of the security issues, as those could be managed, but because on analysis what you need to learn a civilian professional is unlikely to be able to teach you. The best option would be a swallow graduate from Malagosto who has also worked in the field as a negotiator. There are a few of them, and we could request one.” 

He turned the pen in his fingers again. “But by doing so we would essentially be telegraphing that you would be receiving this training to the organisation, because it would become known. And the operative themselves would then become a heightened security risk because it would be known that you would subsequently be in situations with this operative where you would be vulnerable.” 

He looked up at her. “And as you know, you and I and the changes that we are trying to implement in Scorpia are not universally acclaimed.” He smiled a little, without any real humour. “In fact, I sometimes believe we are at more risk from those disaffected within our ranks, rather than those without.” 

He shrugged. “So unless you are prepared to have Sagitta in the actual room with you as you learn from the operative.” She made a tiny, stifled movement of instinctive negation at the thought of how humiliating that would be, but he caught it, and nodded in understanding. “I thought not. And it would not be an effective learning environment if you were constantly aware of both Sagitta's presence and the possibility that the operative might attempt to injure you. So I have discounted the swallow operative as a real possibility. Which means that you were correct. The most appropriate and safest option is for me to teach you exactly what you should know.”

She swallowed, suddenly a little nervous at the abyss she had opened up in front of them. How would this even work? Because she wasn't naive enough to think that this, them actually having sex, even if it was as part of her training, wouldn't disrupt their equilibrium, at least in some way. What if after this everything went pear shaped, and he didn't feel he could rely on her any more? Or it all went terribly wrong on her side, and she messed it up? Or what would Jack say, or Thom, if they found out? She fidgeted in place and he gave her a searching look that seemed to see every one of her concerns and extract them from her head. Bloody mind reader.

“If I teach you, there is the added advantage that this will remain private between us. Those you may have to deal with in the future will not be aware that you have had this training, and so may usefully underestimate you. Plus, if you do not wish it, no one else will ever know how you gained this experience.”

She ducked her head, unable to bear the cool compassion in his gaze any longer. He was being kind, she realised, kind in his own way. Protecting what small parts of her privacy he could, the fact that even this part of her life would be sacrificed on the altar of Scorpia and expediency. 

“And yes, the nature of this training is different in some ways from what I have trained you in before, but I believe that any disruption that may cause can be managed.” He reached out to her and tipped up her chin with his fingers, blue eyes holding her gaze. “Alex. There will be rules. I will only train you in these matters when we have sufficient privacy. So realistically when we are able to spend an overnight in the same location where we are unlikely to be disturbed. For example, when you finish an assignment, or come to report to me on an ongoing matter. Any training session will be instigated by me when I have determined that the location and situation is secure and private. We will not discuss the training outside of the sessions. In between sessions I shall direct you to reading and observational assignments that I expect you to complete before we meet again.” His mouth twitched a little at the corners. “Unlike Malagosto, there will be no test at the end of this course, no exam to pass. Instead I will tell you when I think that you have learned enough in this specific area to be armed against any issues in the arenas you will be exposed to it in. Understood?”

She nodded against the pressure of his fingers, already a little apprehensive. She had asked for this so she would deal with the consequences, but that didn't mean she wasn't nervous. Not just of the possible consequences for their dynamic, but also because every time Yassen had trained her it had hurt in some way, whether that had been physical or emotional. It had all made her a better operative, but there was some part of her that already both dreaded and anticipated the pain this new course of training would bring.

He was looking at her as if he could read her thoughts again, and the fingers on her skin tightened on her chin. “I will not be training you for a role as a swallow operative, and with Dr Three's retirement there is no one in the organisation apart from myself who will be entitled to give you an assignment where you will be personally required to undertake swallow operations. And as you are being trained to take over my role at Scorpia I do not anticipate any scenario in which the operations you will run at my orders will require you to undertake such a role.”

She looked at him eyes widening, as he delivered what was, for anyone as able to read Yassen as she was, the equivalent of an “over my dead body” speech, with regards to her ever being required to literally prostitute herself for Scorpia while he was in charge. She wasn't sure what to feel about that. On one hand she was grateful that he wasn't expecting that of her, but on the other hand after everything else he had expected her to adapt too, the assassination, the torture, the ruthless, bloody pragmatism, the fact that it was sex for a mission that was his cut off for her was telling. Clearly, whatever he had experienced in this arena had been unpleasant enough that he was uncharacteristically prepared to spare her the same experience if he could avoid it. 

She didn't have many illusions left. If Yassen had thought she needed to learn to use sex as a weapon in order to undertake her role, or if it would have made her safer, or a better operative, he would have booked her into the swallow course at Malagosto himself. But clearly his judgement call was that her position in the organisation was such that it wouldn't be essential. So she would take that and be grateful that at least she wouldn't have to give that part of herself to Scorpia too. 

But she could tell from the way he was looking at her that he wasn't quite finished, and she was correct. He let go of her chin and returned to his pen, twisting it between his fingers as he spoke, reducing the focus between them a little. “Because I do not expect you to have to perform in this manner in the field, I am prepared to extend a little leeway with regards to the,” he hesitated just for a beat, “practical aspects of your training in this area. When we reach that stage I will ask you if you wish to proceed with each exercise. If you feel truly uncomfortable with any of the things I will ask you to do, or you wish to slow down the pace of instruction, then Alex,” he looked up and held her gaze, no humour lurking in the back of his blue eyes at all, “I want you to tell me. It is important that I know. This is not an area where I expect you to accept what I propose without dispute if you are uncomfortable about how we are proceeding.”

There was something subdued and bleak in his eyes as he spoke to her, something that spoke of old pain, although she doubted anyone else would have picked up on it. But to her, it was clear. At some point in his history a young Yassen had not been extended the choice that he was giving her now, and he was still feeling the effects of that years later. And he would spare her that pain if he could. Again, he was protecting her, as best as he could in the situation they were in, and she felt a surge of gratitude that she couldn't show. He would hate that, he would think it was pity. So instead she simply nodded and met his solemnity with her own. “I understand.” And unspoken between them.

_Thank you._

He nodded acknowledgement of both the spoken and unspoken exchange and broke her gaze, contemplating the pen turning in his long fingers instead. “Good.”

She shifted, feeling a little awkward in the wake of their conversation, left perched on his desk, and his eyes switched back to her, the mild remonstration in his gaze enough to still her in place. He didn't approve of her tendency to fidget when she felt uncomfortable, especially as she grew older. Clearly he thought it was a habit she should have grown out of by now. Unfortunately she had never felt comfortable enough to admit to him that she had grown out of it, with everybody else. But the combination of how much she let her guard down around him, in a way that she didn't with anyone else apart from Jack, and the fact that he was literally the only person left these days (apart from perhaps Dr Three) who could leave her so at sea meant that she still occasionally lapsed into the habit around him. And annoyingly, he always picked up on it.

“As I said, I have been giving the situation some thought. And the first thing I require you to do is read this material.” He reached out to one of the sheafs of paper on his desk and extracted a single sheet which he passed over to her. She briefly scanned the sheet, her brow furrowing a little in confusion. It was a list of various books and research papers. Some she had vaguely heard of, such as The Story of O by Anne Desclos, but the others were a varied mix of psychology, game theory, negotiation tactics and behavioural science. It was an unexpected mix for the subject they had been discussing, enough that when she raised her gaze to meet Yassen's she allowed her mild confusion to show. 

The corners of his mouth twitched momentarily in subdued amusement and he shrugged. “Sex is just sex, Sashenka. It can be pleasant, or unpleasant, but it is at its base purely physical. And yes, it is useful for you to know. But what you need to understand is all of that which circulates around sex. Seduction, manipulation, power dynamics. Some of this you already know from Malagosto, and from the other lessons you have learned over the years.”

She already did? 

(She tried not to be distracted by the fact he'd called her _Sashenka_. He hadn't done that for _years_.)

That glimmer of a smile deepened. “For example, what are some of the signs of a lie?”

Before she even thought about it, she'd opened her mouth and was listing. “Repetition, a change in tone, changes in body language,” she went to continue, but he raised a hand and she stopped. 

“You see? And a lie is still a lie, even when the individual concerned wishes to seduce, or manipulate. But seduction can help to hide a lie, as can sexual manipulation. So there are techniques you should learn in how to help spot the lie even when it is covered up in pretty words, and charm. And from the other perspective, it will be useful for you to know how these tactics work as you may wish to use them yourself.” He raised an eyebrow as he looked at her analytically for a moment. “You have grown into a beautiful woman Alexandra, and many of our clients and enemies now and in the future will look at you, and see the woman first, and not the operative, or the Head of Scorpia. Which is short sighted of them, but,” he shrugged in a way that demonstrated his opinion of such stupidity. “Could be useful to you. You can use that blindness to drive a better bargain, or to weaken their position. Many people, more men than women admittedly, are vulnerable to beauty. They wish to possess it, or wreck, or it simply makes them foolish. This makes them open to manipulation, and I will teach you how to see the signs of this, and how to use it. It is a useful skill to have.”

She looked down at him from her perspective perched on the desk, suddenly seeing him almost as if he was a stranger, an attractive man, with ice blue eyes, who in his youth must have been a beautiful boy, and wondered abruptly who had taught him the same lessons of manipulation, seduction and persuasion. And how he had used them since, including she knew, against her when she was far too young and untrained to have any defences against him. And by teaching those same techniques to her now, guarding her against them being used against her in the future, well.... 

It was probably the closest thing she would ever get to an apology from him for using those techniques against her to drag her into his world in the first place. But she had learned over the years that there was no point in bringing up the past, so she simply nodded.

“Thank you. I'd like that.”

He sat up at his desk, a subtle tension leaking out of him at her acceptance, replaced by his habitual brisk efficiency. “Good. The first thing you need to do then, is read the titles I have listed for you. Once you have done that, we will discuss what you have learned, and we will see what other lessons might be....needful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Please let me know what you think!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Alex is confused. This makes two of us. :-) Hope that everyone enjoys, and please let me know if there are any issues re spelling/typos that I need to fix._

She wouldn't say that she was becoming worryingly fascinated with sex. Because she wasn't, at all. It was just that with all the material Yassen had assigned her, and this particular mission giving her more free time than usual in the evenings to read those materials....

Well.

And it wasn't as if all of the books and papers he had arranged to be delivered to her directly related to sex. At least 60% of them were about body language, negotiation strategy, manipulation. Or were clinical, although detailed synopsis' on human anatomy, building on the knowledge that she had gained at Malagosto, and then had expanded over the years by Mace whenever they had a free minute on operations. By now she was a more than competent field medic. But these were detailed,clinical renditions of _sexual anatomy_ , which wasn't really an area she had studied before, unless in passing when reluctantly skimming Dr Three's books on interrogation. And there were also academic studies on sexology. So, yes she found that she did find herself thinking about sex a lot more than she used to before this little _project_ of hers had come up.

Not during the days. She had always been able to focus hard enough on an issue so as to block out most everything else, and her time at Scorpia had sharpened her ability to concentrate to a razor's edge. Knowing that distraction, or a lack of attention to detail, could lead to you being shot, or handed over to Dr Three was a wonderful incentive. But during the nights, where she was on her own in her bedroom in her hotel suite, or wherever she was bunking that night, even when she was sleeping in the same room as Sagitta, she couldn't help but think about what she had been reading. Musing over it. Pondering.

And sometimes when she was on her own, she would let her hands run down her own torso, cup her breasts measuringly under her sleep shirt, let her fingers trace the sleek lines of her skin and the taut plane of her stomach and wonder, before her hands would slip between her thighs for some much needed relaxation.

It wasn't that she hadn't thought about sex before. Of course she had. But her life before Ian died had been a profoundly male centric one, apart from Jack. Her best friend was a boy, her only real parental figure was male, and she had been a classic tomboy, partly through natural inclination, but also due to the fact that she could tell that Ian was always a little wrong footed when he seemed to remember that she was a girl. So, not wanting to make him uncomfortable she had acted far more like a little boy, physically brave, rather aggressive for a girl, more interested in rock climbing and karate and battles than in dolls. If she had had Jack from birth it might have been different, but by the time the other woman had turned up Alex had been 7 and the mould had been cast. And anyway it was easier for Ian to treat her more like his nephew than his niece, and the short hair and boys clothes she had insisted on had helped sell the illusion. The only typically “female” thing Ian had insisted on was that she get a basic familiarity with gymnastics probably, she had realised in retrospect, because he wanted to ensure she maintained her flexibility as she grew up, as flexibility was extremely useful in undertaking any martial art or self defence system at a high level. 

She had just begun to look at boys a little differently, just the occasional hesitant glances at her so familiar year mates, wondering how things might change, and a passing crush on a particularly attractive lad who was on the football team and in the Lower Sixth when everything went terribly wrong.

From then on sex was the very last thing on her mind for years, except for its potential for its violent application to be another avenue to hurt her. She had certainly never considered Yassen in that way. Abstractly she was aware that he would be considered to be an attractive man, but to her he was initially both threat and touchstone, as she struggled to adapt to what he needed. It was classic conditioning, he was the source of both punishment and reward, his displeasure meant hours more of physical training that left her incoherent with exhaustion, and silence that lengthened between them for days, his approval more work, but sometimes a hand on her shoulder, or one on the nape of her neck, grounding and reassuring. And she increasingly craved his approval more than she had anyone's since Ian had died. 

The fact that she was seeking the approval of Ian's killer hovered in the back of her mind, but it was submerged under the necessity of survival. And by the time she arrived at Malagosto her perspective had shifted, her native adaptability combined with a pragmatism that allowed her to realise just how essential it was to remain under his protection if she was to survive Scorpia, solidifying her obedience. Her experiences at Malagosto and afterwards had just deepened that loyalty. Which is why she hadn't hesitated to take the shot at graduation. She'd thrown up afterwards, but Yassen had needed her to succeed, and not to hesitate so she had obeyed, her reward a glimmer of approval in blue eyes and a clasp of her shoulder when they met again.

From then on everything had simply spiraled, operation after operation, until the two of them had made their agreement and the whole debacle with the staged assassination attempt, Dr Three and the moment where she had hit her own absolute limits, and for the first time actively disobeyed, looked Dr Three in the eye and had stated, with bone deep certainty, that she would kill him if he went after Sagitta. 

Yassen had reprimanded her in the moment, but she knew him well enough to know that he wasn't seriously displeased, and her gamble had worked, although it had never been her intention, when Dr Three agreed to her continuing training as Scorpia's heir. 

After that things were a little different. She was still exhausted half the time, still pushed to her limits on a regular basis, but her survival became a little more abstract as the possibility of Dr Three ordering her death rescinded from her day to day list of things to worry about. It was never removed, not entirely, but it dropped to the back of her mind from the forefront. So there were the occasional moments of respite, where she could take a breath, although she seemed to spend the entirety of the year from age 16 to 17 dealing with a body that was determined to catch up in 12 months what should have been going on from when she was 14. 

While she was sincerely attached to Sagitta, there were few more embarrassing moments than when she had to update her listed measurements for the various outfits she needed for her work with an increase in bra and knickers size. Sagitta acted like a pack of over protective big brothers with her at the best of times and the carefully blank expression on Mace's face when she admitted that she needed bigger bras had been just as cringe-worthy as she could imagine it would have been if he actually was her brother. She also spent a large chunk of that year dressing in the baggiest clothes she could get away with, more than slightly uncomfortable with her new curves. It was only when Jack sat her down and lectured her, pointing out that one, the Executive Board were mostly gone, so Alex didn't have to hide from them any longer, and two, by hiding she was demonstrating that she wasn't comfortable with herself, which was a visible lack of self confidence that she couldn't really afford, that she had started dressing in clothes that actually fit close to her body.

The first few times she had done so she'd seen the momentary startlement in Sagitta's eyes when they looked at her and had internally shied at the attention. But over protective big brothers or not, they were also professionals and they had covered up their collective response quickly, and thankfully never mentioned her change in style. And then like everything else familiarity dulled any surprise and it had become the new normal. However, while she had thought about sex a bit more that year, and less abstractly as her body matured it had still been very theoretical because despite being surrounded by men all the time, a large part of her just refused to go there with Sagitta. 

Even the _idea_ of lusting after them physically felt uncomfortable. They were a pretty good looking bunch in the abstract, fit, tough, lean, mostly tall, but maybe she just knew them too well, and she couldn't separate how she related to them, and how they looked. She had a suspicion that it was the same for them, although of course they never said anything. But she had the distinct impression that when they looked at her they still saw the 15 year old skinny street urchin with terrible hair who they had first met. Orion, Yassen Gregorovich's apprentice, as deadly but as sexless as a blade at someone's throat. Especially Marcus, who she was convinced still saw her as the young girl who had stood in front of the Executive Board and claimed Sagitta's punishment as her responsibility. It didn't stop them obeying her orders, or providing her with the advice she requested, but it did make her even more out of bounds in their minds than she would have been otherwise.

She had a suspicion that the only member of Sagitta who didn't have that mindset where she was concerned was also the most recent. Theo had been both an answer to a need, and in part, a gift to her for her 17th birthday from Yassen. Sagitta were excellent operatives, and had been trained in close protection, but their close combat skills, while perfectly adequate, were not a match for Professor Yermalov's or Yassen's, and as Alex had improved her own technique she increasingly found her sparring sessions with the various members of Sagitta lacked sufficient challenge. Frustrated at the lack of progression in an area she found not just a valuable skill, but also a significant outlet for the stress she operated under on a day to day basis, she had mentioned the matter to Yassen. He had acknowledged the issue, and unbeknownst to her had requested recommendations from Professor Yermalov for individuals who had sufficient skill and teaching ability to assist Alex's development in the area. Then he had handed the list to Sagitta for review, because in order to be useful to Alex the instructor would have to be part of Sagitta, and so would also have to have complementary skills to his Second's existing security team. But Sagitta were also instructed to do the deepest of deep vetting dives on any possible candidates, because any such instructor would be the perfect position to take Alex out during training. Accordingly, an excess of caution was definitely warranted. 

Sagitta had come back with a shortlist culled from Professor Yermalov's recommendations. Yassen then subjected that short list to further vetting by a number of entities and operatives, including non Scorpia personnel. Then he had undertaken his own vetting process on the names that were left before he had chosen Theo for the role after interviewing the security specialist himself. Theo had been introduced to Alex and Sagitta by Yassen a few days after her 17th birthday. Marcus had joshed with Alex, knowing how much she loved her combat training, that Mr Gregorovich should have just tied a bow around the instructor's neck. Alex had half heartedly glared at Marcus and flushed, but couldn't exactly dispute the claim, because Yassen clearly _had_ delivered the new Sagitta member as a present for her birthday. Thankfully Theo himself hadn't made that connection for quite a while, and by that time he had acclimatised enough to the team, and the status of a 17 year old girl being his Boss that he found the idea amusing, as opposed to embarrassing.

But it meant that Theo had never seen her as her 15 year old androgynous self, only as a young woman who had rapidly grown into her looks, and who dressed in a way that didn't hide, even if it didn't highlight, a lithe, toned, athletic figure, all long legs and deceptive strength. And unlike a few members of Sagitta, Theo was straight. None of that meant that he would ever even consider stepping outside what was appropriate (she was sure that Marcus had given him the escalating threats speech where Marcus would have highlighted in order of terror the reasons such an action would have been a Bad Idea, starting from Sagitta themselves, up through her reputation as Orion, her status as heir to Scorpia and then cumulating in the simple reiteration of Yassen's name), but there was the occasional look from him usually after sparring where she was loose limbed and relaxed from the buzz of endorphins released by the violence that made her think that he wasn't as oblivious to her perceived attractiveness as the rest of Scorpia were. 

And for her part there were moments in the middle of the dance of blows and kicks, when body interacted with body and sweat sheened skins pressed against each other where some part of her would register on a basic level _male/musk/sweat/flesh/skin_ and would light up like an alarm, leaving her flushed with more than just exercise. But apart from providing her with fairly strong evidence that she was at the very least bisexual and not gay, it wasn't something she was prepared to do anything about. Theo was part of her security. She was his Boss, and it was a dynamic that brought a whole world of power relations into any potential liaison that just made her skin crawl.

But it didn't stop her thinking about it, and it was also what started her thinking about the dynamics of sex in general beyond the brutal displays of power and submission she'd been witness to so often while employed by Scorpia. Just because she had been somewhat protected by Yassen's threat didn't mean she hadn't had to deal with the stares and the comments, and in the case of the rest of the Executive Board the ever present desire to _own_ that had lurked in the eyes of most of them. Kursk especially, when she was sent to Siberia at his request one of the many scenarios she had been dreading was that his use of her would be far more direct than he had insinuated in her initial briefing. She was sure it had been on his list. He had just decided to start out with psychological torture by making her kill Jack before he used her. He had wanted to break her first before he took his pleasure. 

So it wasn't that surprising that she had shied away from sex for so long when it had simply seemed like a vehicle for pain and humiliation and her body wasn't inclined towards it anyway. But with the threat of the Board mostly removed, and Dr Three temporarily placated she was able to be a bit more detached, to see other aspects of it rather than just physical domination, and her natural curiosity reared its head again. 

Sagitta would have been horrified to know how often she covertly sneaked peaks at them flirting mildly with serving and hotel staff as they went about their daily business of providing her with protection. She might pretend to be deep in thought or buried in reports when her food was delivered, or housekeeping came in to make up what ever room she was staying in that night, but she frequently stole glances at the interactions between her men and the staff, partly to make sure that no boundaries were being crossed (not that Sagitta ever would as they were fundamentally too professional) but also because she was curious. All of that, flirting, and eye meets, and the dance of essentially meaningless conversation between people who regarded each other as attractive was completely alien to her. And it felt like a gap in her knowledge base, one that no amount of browsing the internet could really fill. 

As she grew older she felt the lack even more. She would be interacting with another operatives, handing out assignments, or conducting de-briefings and there would be moments, especially with the men (who after all made up the majority of Scorpia's field staff and Malagosto graduates) where she would catch a look in their eyes that she couldn't quite parse, or when she had a feeling that there was a subtext in their conversations that she wasn't quite picking up. She covered for herself pretty easily, in that she simply stayed strictly professional, but it still left her feeling a little at sea, a little less secure in her own understanding and abilities. 

Once Yassen started trusting her with more and more client contact the issue became even worse. The vast majority of Scorpia's clients were also male, and even those were female were the kind of woman who had got where they were by operating on the principle of want, take, have. They were people who had snarled, crawled, murdered and fought to get to their current positions and they weren't used to not getting exactly what they wanted. And from far too many of them there was a clear undertone during their interactions with her that _Alex_ was what they wanted. 

She didn't know how to handle it. She wasn't intimidated by them, considering that if any of them survived Sagitta's response to any attempt to lay a finger on her she would blow their brains out or break their necks herself. But she was also aware that there probably was a better way to handle and deflect their interest while still being polite to them as clients than maintaining a strict cold professionalism. But she didn't how to do it. And there wasn't anyone she could ask. This was outside Sagitta's or Jack's expertise, and admitting to any other Scorpia employee that she didn't know how to handle the situation would be a weakness in the image of total control and confidence she was building amongst the rank and file one successful mission at a time. And she _needed_ that image. It had been stressed to her by both Yassen and Dr Three that it would be one of the most important things that would maintain stability in Scorpia during the eventual transition from Yassen's leadership to hers, whenever that occurred. Scorpia needed to have faith in her, to believe that she could lead, and bleating about her insecurities about interpersonal relationships with clients wouldn't exactly inspire that confidence. 

She tried to teach herself but she didn't quite know where to start, and she couldn't afford to experiment with actual clients, as the fall out could be disastrous. And nothing she could find online, or on any of the resources she had access to seemed to solve the problem which was, she came to the conclusion, after literally weeks of worrying about it, fundamentally about sex. Or more to the point, the way sex mixed in with everything she was dealing with. It took her months of pondering other options, from hiring a professional sex worker, to undertaking the Swallow course at Malagosto, but eventually she came to the conclusion that there was really only one person she could ask, the final resource she always reverted to when she had absolutely exhausted all of her own avenues. 

Yassen. 

She knew that he would know what to do, or how she could learn, and as long as she could make a decent business case as to why it was important that she learned about the area he would help her, even if only by pointing her towards the right person or resource for her to fix the gap in her skillset. But then the more she thought about it the more she realised that she didn't just want him to provide her with books or reports, or other materials. She wanted to _understand_ about sex, to know it from the outside in, to really comprehend why it seemed to make so many otherwise rational people so irrational. And she wanted _Yassen_ to teach her. 

The first time she had really realised that, on a deep down gut level, she had been lying in a bunk half asleep late at night surrounded by the soft snores of half of Sagitta from the surrounding bunks. The thought had so startled her that she had shifted abruptly to full consciousness and sat up on her elbows all in one move, leading to a sleepy chorus of queries as to whether there was anything wrong from her posse of quasi big brothers. It was only once she'd reassured them that everything was fine that she was able to lie down again and consider what her sub-conscious had just thrown up, her face burning at the very idea, of being _with_ Yassen in that way. She tried to push it down, but it was like an earwig song that just wouldn't go away, popping up whenever she had a moment of spare time, leaving her disturbed and uncomfortably restless. 

But it didn't help. Over the next days and weeks she kept _thinking_ about it. And it was as if once she had starting thinking about it, starting to consider it as a possibility it had opened the floodgates somewhere in her mind, and she just. Couldn't. Stop.

Yassen's mouth, the finely moulded line of it, the way one corner would tip up when she amused him. The sharp jut of his cheekbones, the elegant shape of his skull, the cool look in his ice blue eyes, the way one glance from him could strip her down to her bones. The trace of stubble on his skin _(how would that feel on her skin)_ so blond you could hardly see it, even after days in the field. The cut of his eyebrows, the short hair that went platinum after days in the sun. 

And his hands. God his hands. Long strong slender fingers, the callouses on his skin that had touched her so often and so objectively, correcting her posture, demonstrating a hold, sparring with her, doling out teaching and pain and reward often in the same instance. Then the breadth of his shoulders, the lean strength of him, sinewy, cut but not gym bulked, every part of him optimised for function not petty aesthetics. How he was taller than her but not ridiculously so, just enough. _Gah_.

She was amazed that Sagitta hadn't realised something was up, considering that she kept flushing at unexpected times, but if they did they didn't say anything, although she was sure she caught a few speculative looks from Mace. But it became this track in her head, she would be having a shower, absent-mindedly soaping up her skin and suddenly she would find herself wondering what it would be like to have his hands running over her body, his breath on the back of her neck, his fingers wound almost painfully in her hair. Or she would be lying in bed and she would have a sudden flash of lying beneath him, the way she had at the end of so many sparring matches, but instead of there being a cool detachment in his eyes, there would be heat, all his focus just on her.

She managed not to take the final step of deliberately thinking about Yassen when she let her fingers slip between her thighs, but she had to admit that there were various anonymous blond figures who featured in her fantasies far more than they should have. It reached the point that it was almost _annoying_ , how she couldn't get the thought out of her head. The whole thing was completely ridiculous. Yassen was her _Boss_. Her mentor, the arbiter of her days. They arguably had a quasi-paternal relationship. So she certainly shouldn't be thinking about him like this. It was like some kind of twisted Electra complex, except of course her mother was already dead. 

She tried fantasying about celebrities on the internet, or determinedly changing the course of her thoughts every time her mind drifted in Yassen's direction in any way that wasn't purely professional. But it didn't help. It was the classic pink elephant scenario. Try not to think about it, and it was _all_ she could think about. 

She was even driven to attempting aversion training. She tried to imagine the worst possible case scenarios with Yassen, ones where any such lessons would wreck their relationship, or where he would approach her training as clinically as any trainer at Malagosto, not caring whether he hurt her physically in the most intimate of ways as he did. She imagined him taking what he required by force or coercion, his expression at its blankest, bereft of even the small physical cues that she had been able to read for years now, a stranger to her. 

But somehow she couldn't quite convince herself. Yassen had no aversion to pain as a training tool, but despite what the Board had thought he had never used it with her as a punishment. He had never beaten her, although some would argue that their initial fight training in the cabin when she was 14 and only just above civilian skill level had come close. But to her it had never felt like that. He pushed her constantly to improve, absolutely. He accepted nothing less than 100% of her effort. But her mistakes and even her occasional bouts of rebellion had simply been met with more work, more sparring, more running, until she collapsed in pure fatigue, all the disrespect vacated by exhaustion. And with the knowledge of his skill level that she now had, she knew that he had been extremely careful in all their spars to never dish out more than she could take. He could have killed her in seconds, but instead he pulled his strikes and his speed, tailored each bout to be precisely what was required to challenge and improve her, using the hits he did inflict as incentive for her to advance as quickly as possible. It was brutal, yes. But she never felt that he was inflicting pain for the sake of it. He wasn't a sadist. 

And she couldn't imagine that he would do so if she was to ask him for training in this area either. There would probably be some discomfort, either physical or emotional, or perhaps both, but he wouldn't go out of his way to be cruel, if only due to the effect such a tactic would have on their working relationship. He had made a choice when he had first taken her, to let her remain as much herself as she could be while also being what he needed. And he wouldn't change tack now, especially when she was so much older, so much stronger, so much harder to break and change. So despite her best efforts she couldn't persuade herself away from the idea of him, couldn't stop herself from wanting, in a way that really wasn't appropriate.

Thankfully, the operation she had been assigned to was difficult and engrossing. Enough that she had no time to consider the irritating way that her mentor had become such a distraction to her night s during the days. And the length of the operation also helped, a full 3 months away from Yassen, with only email and an infrequent phone calls where she somehow managed to maintain her facade of professionalism. Thankfully, he seemed to attribute the occasional lapse in her usual detached tone to exhaustion rather than anything else, and didn't call her on it. But the low rumble of his voice, the rasp that coloured it when it was especially late wherever he was, or he was exceptionally tired, all of it wound its way around her hindbrain, and just made everything so much worse. 

It took about 6 weeks to come to the conclusion that the only way to deal with the issue was head on. She had to ask if he would teach her. If he said no, well, she would somehow find a different tack to get the training she needed. She didn't know what yet, but she thought that at the very least, Yassen would be able to steer her in the right direction, even if he refused to teach her himself. 

There was a certain amount of peace involved in making the decision. Now all she had to do was think of the best way to broach the subject. Over the years of their relationship she had learnt that Yassen responded best to logical argument, and a rational approach. Well, actually it was less that he responded well, it was simply that any excess emotion of her part was far more likely to cause him to dismiss whatever she was overwrought about. So, even though sometimes she just wanted to scream at him she had learned to shove her emotions down, to keep control, although by the occasional sceptical rise of an eyebrow she was subject to she wasn't always wholly successful. 

So she approached it like she would any other pitch she was going to make, rehearsing all of her arguments in her head, attacking the issue from every angle she could think of, coming up with counter arguments to her own proposals and attacking them as well, until she felt as prepared as she could be.

Of course, it all went to hell pretty much the minute she opened her mouth. Something about his expectant look as he waited for her to speak, or the effect of finally being in his proximity after so many months away which was messing with her equilibrium almost as much as she worried it might, meant that all of her prepared speeches went out the window. And she ended up blurting exactly what she thought into the silence between them, rather than the carefully curated arguments she'd spent so many hours rehearsing. 

She was inwardly mortified, but she was committed now, so she pushed on and was granted the unexpected reward of seeing Yassen Gregorovich actually look startled for one brief second. She doubted anyone but her would have recognised what his sudden stillness meant, but she knew his tells, and that brief frozen moment was the Cossack equivalent of a normal person doing a spit take. So she wasn't surprised when his initial gut reaction was to say no. He never reacted well to being ambushed. So she did what she had always done, she refused to give up, harnessed the innate stubbornness that had kept her alive for so long, and pushed. But this time she actually used the arguments she had spent so long constructing. And just as she had known it would, the combination of her relentlessly logical arguments and her calm in setting out those arguments meant that he did actually listen to her. 

Listen until she had said everything she wanted to say and then had retreated to wait for his judgment, trying desperately to disguise both how she both wanted him to say yes, and how she was dreading it, all at the same time. But as always, he outmaneuvered her, saying that he would “think about it,” and then dismissing her to bed as if she was still 14. She went, the habit of obedience too deeply ingrained to resist, but it was hours before she slept.

The next morning she was up before the sun to catch her transport to her new assignment. He saw her off with a nod, and a few last minute instructions, but there was no evidence in their interactions or his cool expression that she had, the previous night, metaphorically lobbed a grenade into their normal dynamic. But that was just par for the course with Yassen, and she shouldn't really have expected anything different. 

Again, thankfully her new assignment was engrossing enough that she had few opportunities to obsess over what Yassen's response to her request was going to be. She had made her pitch and now it was up to him, and whatever he decided she would have to accept. Any further proposals or arguments would just irritate him and make him more likely to deny her what she wanted just as an object lesson. So she kept her frustrations under wraps, and focused on her job. Even her sub-conscious seemed to have calmed down a little, no longer tormenting her at random times in the day with recollections of Yassen's hands on her when they were sparring, or the weight of his eyes with the glint of mirth in them when she amused him, that only she seemed able to pick up on. Her brain wasn't quite so merciful at night, but she threw herself into her work to such an extent that she was frequently exhausted which led to precious hours of unconsciousness without dreams.

Eight weeks later the assignment was successfully completed and she was summoned as usual to debrief with Yassen in person. He was in Moscow this time, based in a luxurious suite at the Four Seasons but Alex didn't even notice the décor when she stepped through the suite's double doors, even though she had just spent the last 8 weeks in a shack that barely had running water. Extremes of luxury and deprivation were all she had known since she was 14 years old, so the dichotomy between the basic conditions she frequently dealt with in the field and then the luxury of the many hotel suites and apartments that she was assigned when she was reporting in to Yassen, or previously the Board, had long since ceased to bother her. 

Luxury to Alex had become much more about the intangible than material things. It was the chance to spend a few precious free hours with Jack and Tom, or an evening spent quietly in Yassen's company, when it was just the two of them and the endless administration that Scorpia required. Or getting to choose her own outfits or to keep the clothes she was given for more than one assignment. Or the very few things that she treasured that were gifts and keepsakes from those she had considered family and friends, such as a picture of Ian and her on holiday in the Swiss Alps when she was 10, his arm around her shoulders and matching smiles on both their faces, a knife that Marcus had given her on her 16th birthday, a thermoplastic hair stiletto that Yassen had given her for her 19th. Small things, not particularly valuable, but important to her because of who had given them to her and why.

She knew that Yassen was much the same when it came to conspicuous consumption. As long as accommodation provided him with the basics he required he didn't care for excess. However, too many of Scorpia's clients, and even some of their own people associated authority with the demonstration of wealth, so in his role as Chief Executive he was frequently required to stay in places that were deemed appropriate for his elevated position. And Russian society in particular associated status with money, so it was a functional necessity for him to stay in the best (while also being the most secure) hotel suite that money could buy in Moscow. 

But if she had hoped for a resolution to her frustration while she was in Moscow she was sorely disappointed. It was a very quick visit anyway, just overnight, far more of a check-in, as he had finished the supervision of his current matter the day before, and had a flight ready to take him on to his next task the following day. But as always at the end of her assignments he insisted on seeing her in person, to check up on her physically, rather than to have her report verbally, as that could easily be done by a phone call. But despite the mother hens he had surrounding her (and yes, she did mean you, Marcus) he always needed to check how she was with his own eyes before he was satisfied and would send her on to her next project. And if he wasn't happy about how she looked he wasn't above delaying her next assignment, over her protestations, until he felt that she had fully recovered from whatever ailment or injury he was displeased by. 

However, she had hoped that despite the flyby night nature of their interaction he would mention the elephant in the room to her, even if it was only to table the discussion until they had more time. But instead he stayed completely silent on the issue, as if she had never brought it up at all. And he wasn't in one of his occasionally more relaxed moods, where she could chance his tolerance by bringing up a subject that was outside the clearly delineated parameters that he had set for their interaction. Instead he efficiently debriefed her, just as efficiently satisfied himself as to her physical well being, and then just as briskly handed out the details of her next job. He wasn't annoyed with her, in fact he was pleased with her performance, but there was no room in his expression for _AlexandYassen_ , as opposed to Orion and Cossack, and she knew better than to push him when he was this focused on their official roles. So when she left the next day a few hours after him for a brief break in Dubai and catch up with Jack before she and Sagitta went on to their next job nothing had been said. 

And with Yassen, if he had stated that he would discuss something at a certain time, and then didn't discuss it that usually meant that nothing would _ever_ be said. So she had assume that he had decided, for his own reasons, that it would be inadvisable for him to teach her what she wanted to know. It wasn't an unexpected decision, and she was sure that he would at some point find her a workable solution to her problem, but in the moment it felt a lot like a rejection, and she couldn't help but perceive it as that. And unfortunately, she didn't have the luxury of behaving like a normal young woman who had been rejected by someone she wanted. There was no unloading to girlfriends in her future, not even to the one semi-normal female influence she had in her life, as this wasn't something she could discuss with Jack. And considering she was going to be stuck in one of the central Asian 'Stans for the foreseeable future there wasn't going to really be the option of ice cream and junk tv either. 

So she sublimated, kept the lingering emotional pain under strict regulation, focused into her work, and relieved the stress with her workouts, poor Theo frequently an unwitting outlet for her frustrations. She was a little quieter than usual, a little more withdrawn perhaps, enough for the more perceptive members of Sagitta to notice, or perhaps not, she'd always been quiet until she wasn't, and they probably just put it down to the stress of the assignment, which was a complex one, as they all were these days as Yassen piled on the variables, every mission both a teaching tool and a test. 

By the time the mission was finished she had managed to find a certain balance, the initial jagged edge of rejection and the blow to her self esteem blunted by time, a fierce focus on the job in hand, innate practicality and resignation into a quiet melancholy wistfulness, which she could hide even from Yassen by disguising it as a single minded concentration on her work. She shouldn't have expected anything, it had been too much to ask. If there was anything that the immersion in this world since she was 14 had shown her, was that just because she wanted something didn't mean she ever had a chance in hell of getting it. And it was clear that this time wouldn't be any different.

So when Yassen actually said yes, it pulled her feet out from under her, all her hard fought for equilibrium shattered as she stared at him with wide eyes, her stomach suddenly churning with a combination of anticipation and dread. After all, what was that saying?

_Be careful what you wish for, you may just get it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Please review!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter is dedicated to Valak. Because she is evil, and inspires me!_

Belarus had been a cluster fuck. It had been a mad scramble from the very beginning, the conditions on the ground so much worse than the briefing had suggested, and then it turned out that the Client's Second in command was engaged in a palace coup. There were two full attacks on her and Sagitta during the period she was there and finally it all cumulated in a full on shoot out in the client's boardroom at what was meant to be the final signing of the transaction, when everyone was meant to be fully disarmed, and the client had insisted on solely their own security, bodies dropping like flies, and bullets flying everywhere. Alex had dropped into full Orion, but even then it had been dicey and she had been reduced to stabbing one of the Second's supporters in the throat with one of the thermoplastic knives she always carried, the boiling swoosh of the blood of his carotid artery painting her face, leaving her momentarily blinded before she could grab his gun and shoot pretty much everyone that was moving. She gave in to the ice cold rage that was so much a part of her and even as Sagitta broke down the doors she was standing over the client's unconscious body, dispatching the last of the rebels with clinically accurate head shots, her face a mask of blood.

Even Sagitta, knowing her as they did, were wary of her in _that_ mood and they obeyed silently and efficiently as she rapped out her orders, arranging for the safe extraction of the client, ensuring the operation was wound up, and with a blank face denoting that the client's erstwhile traitorous second in command be delivered to Cruz who had taken over from Dr Three at Malagosto, with her compliments. They might as well get some use out of the bastard before he died, and anyway it would be useful to determine exactly how deep the rot in the client's organisation lay. And charge the client for the report generated by the interrogation of course. 

The whole thing had left her hair triggered, and she just wanted to leave the country and go somewhere where people weren't constantly trying to kill her. Sagitta were in full agreement. One attack on their Boss' life per assignment was more than enough, and this time there had been three, and one had come far too close. So they bundled her on to the private jet as quickly as possible and were airborne within hours, Alex still in the clothes from the shoot out and her face still covered in the remnants of other people's blood.

Annoyingly, the jet didn't have a shower, being short haul only, and although she had a change of clothes with her, all she could do to freshen up was wash her face in the basin in the toilet cubicle, and attempt to run a brush through her hair. None of it disguised the trace elements of blood in her blond mane, or under her nails, or the scrapes on her skin from the fight, which were livid even with Mace's best attentions. 

She tried to sleep, but she was too wired, and by the time the jet landed in Dubai she was both exhausted and angsty. She slipped into the car, with Ivy driving and tried to close her eyes but then straightened when she noted they weren't heading in the direction of her flat, but rather towards Yassen's office.

“What's going on?” she queried sharply, irritable with leftover adrenaline and lack of sleep. “Why aren't we heading home?”

Marcus, in the passenger seat turned round to her and grimaced apologetically. “Mr Gregorovich called, Boss. He wants to see you.”

“Tonight?” she frowned. It was really late, and usually Yassen wouldn't insist on seeing her immediately if she got in after midnight. Something must be wrong.

“Yup, sorry Boss. He was very insistent about it.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You told him, didn't you?” she accused her security lead. He looked completely hangdog and distinctly guilty which was an answer in itself. 

“Dammit Marcus, I was going to tell him _myself!_ Once I'd had a chance to have a shower, and a good night's sleep.”

And incidentally, looked a little less like she had just been caught in the middle of a potentially fatal altercation. 

Marcus looked even more guilty.

“Sorry, Boss. But Mr Gregorovich....you're my Boss, but he's _the Boss_ , and it's literally in my job description to keep him updated as to anything that happens to you. And that particularly includes situations where you end up nearly getting killed! I mean, seriously he would actually torture me personally if I didn't tell him about an issue and you ended up getting killed on my watch.”

He gave her beseeching eyes, and despite herself she slumped in her seat, her irritation at him draining away. It was true, it wasn't fair to expect Sagitta not to report to Yasssen about her well being. She just wished that she'd had a bit more time to make herself presentable before having to make her report. He was _not_ going to be happy about the state she was in.

“Fine. _Quisling._ ” Marcus' look of relief that she wasn't going to protest any further was almost comical, if she'd had the energy to appreciate the humour. 

It was a matter of minutes until they reached Yassen''s offices and dropped her off at the armour plated doors to his personal suite, Sagitta releasing her care to Danube with almost visible sighs of relief. She dismissed them to get some rest and to undertake the normal post mission follow up in the next few days and then made her way through the double doors, ignoring the faintly surprised looks of a number of the members of Danube at her appearance. They were used to encountering her when she was far more “Ms Rider”, and not wearing the outward attributes of Orion, blood splattered creature that she was, so obviously. She was the only member of Scorpia outside his security who was allowed to be armed in Yassen's presence, but she still showed him the respect of removing her gun holster, her secondary ankle holster and all of her knives as soon as entered the suite and placing the weapons in the drawer she normally deposited them in, before she made her way across the acres of carpet, feeling the weight of his eyes tracking her movements until she arrived in front of his desk, and automatically fell into parade rest.

“Sir.”

He looked her over sharply, as always seeing everything, even those things she would rather he didn't and frowned slightly. 

“Orion.” 

He didn't say anything further, not the normal request to report, but simply continued to scrutinise her, which put her slightly off-centre. Nevermind. She would start without him.

But before she could open her mouth he had pushed up from his chair and was approaching her at speed, that small frown still etched across his forehead. And she was exhausted, and hair triggered, and literally still covered in the blood of her enemies, and people had been trying to kill her for the last six weeks. But that was still no excuse for why when he came into her personal space and reached out to finger a strand of her hair that was still matted with someone else's blood she flinched back away from his touch. 

For a moment they both stood frozen, Alex cursing her instincts and Yassen genuinely surprised. She had never, ever reacted that way to him before, not even when she was 14 and hardly knew him. Alex took a breath, closed her eyes for a moment, exhaled and then opened them again, lips pressed tight together and looked at him miserably, penitent. “Sorry.”

He cocked his head, examined her for a moment and then shook his head. “It is no matter.” This time when he reached out to her he did so slowly and she stood her ground, even though her instincts were going haywire. He rubbed the matted strand of hair he had been reaching for between his fingers, lips pressed in a thin line and then clearly came to a decision.

“We will delay your report until tomorrow. Your priorities now are to have a shower and get some sleep in that order.”

She tried to protest. “But Sir!”

“Alex.” He just looked at her, and she slumped. His change from using Orion to Alex was a clear signal that the reportage part of the evening was very firmly over. “It can wait. You are alive. The client is alive?”

She nodded. “The objective has been secured?” She nodded again. “Our people are all alive?” 

“Yes.”

“Well then. Everything else can wait for a few hours.” He gave her a push towards the living part of his suite. “You will stay here tonight. I have had the maids make up your bedroom for you. Go, have a shower, get changed. Have you eaten?”

She shook her head. There was no point in lying to him, he always knew. “Not since breakfast. I had a few protein bars and some nuts on the plane, but nothing else.”

“Well then, I will order you something light from catering. Any injuries?”

She shrugged, and then winced. “Just a few scrapes, some cuts and bruises. Mace has already sorted me out.”

His frown deepened. “You will need to clean those thoroughly. Take off your bandages and wash properly. I will re-bandage you once you have showered. Go, get cleaned up.”

She obeyed, suddenly desperate to get all of the crud off her skin. 

It was the best shower she could remember. She shampooed her hair twice and conditioned it and scrubbed every inch of herself, right down to using a nail brush to get the last of the dried blood out from under her nails and every other crevice it had seeped into. By the time she extracted herself she was prune like but felt so much better, the shower having helped to create a bit of a remove from the events of the day. She smiled a little when she saw what he had left out for her to wear, an old pair of his sweatpants, and one of his old t-shirts. It was what she always used to wear at the cabin to sleep in after the first night when he had yanked her away from London without even allowing her to bring a change of clothes. 

Warm, clean, and dressed she padded out on bare feet into the living room of the suite, mopping at her mass of wet hair with a towel. He looked up from his seat on the couch and she gave him a small smile, still a little embarrassed by her earlier reaction. He took in her cleansed state with a faint air of satisfaction. 

“Good. Come here, sit and I will re-do your bandages. Your food should arrive in a few minutes.”

She sat down next to him as instructed and offered her various minor injuries for his inspection and treatment. Most were just scrapes, but a few needed plasters, and one long shallow cut on her arm needed butterfly closures. 

“Bruises?”

She offered her right shin and her left shoulder for his perusal and then finally her ribs on her right, rucking up her t-shirt and holding it awkwardly under her breasts while he carefully palpitated the edges of the large bruise that stretched across her side. The heat of his hand on her skin was distracting, and she concentrated extremely hard on staying still until he was finished with his examination. Eventually he appeared satisfied, and nodded that she could drop her shirt back down which she did with alacrity. 

“It looks like just bruising, no injury to the ribs, but if you have any sharp pains or difficulty breathing let someone know immediately.”

She nodded. “I know. Mace already said.”

“Good.”

There was a knock on the door of the suite and Johnson, one of Yassen's Danube security brought in a tray from catering with a light meal on it, a bowl of thick soup, and some sandwiches, and in a rare concession from Yassen to her sweet tooth, some baklava to finish. She really must have looked moderately awful if he was willing to relax his “my body is a temple” philosophy for her, even if it was for just one night. But she wasn't going to balk at the treat, instead ate everything hungrily, her appetite starting to come back with a vengeance now she was more relaxed. It had been a very long 15 hours since breakfast. 

He glanced occasionally at her as she ate with an air of mild approval while he worked on yet another of the endless piles of Scorpia paperwork, reassured now that he had checked with his own hands that she was clearly still in one piece. But once she had emptied all the plates and was curled up carefully on the couch, long legs tucked under her, and cradling a large mug of tea, he put down his paperwork and turned to face her. 

“Alex.” She looked up, mildly startled from where she had been contemplating the depths of her mug. She was starting to crash a bit now, the combination of shower, food, tea and the security of her surroundings working their magic. 

“About earlier.” 

She flushed immediately in embarrassment, colour flaring in her cheeks. 

“I'm really sorry,” she offered in a small voice, atypically hesitant. He shrugged.

“It was to be expected at some point. Your instincts are well trained.” His mouth softened around the edges in a way that in anyone else might preclude a smile. “I spent years ensuring that you would always treat a hand coming towards you as a potential threat. So I can hardly complain when you actually do.”

She grimaced. “But I've never..” she paused, not exactly sure how to say what she meant without causing any more awkwardness between them. He inclined his head in understanding.

“Your instincts have never seen me as a threat before.”

She nodded, grateful that he had said it first. “Yes.”

“Well I believe I understand why. Firstly, you were exhausted, hair triggered and had just returned from a situation where you had been required to fight for your life mere hours earlier. But also,” he paused contemplatively and she glanced up at him from where she had been examining the depths of her cup of tea, brown eyes fixed on his, wide, expressive and channelling far more emotion than he thought that she would be comfortable with knowing that he could still read. 

“I wish you to think about something for a moment, Alex. When was the last time someone touched you, apart from Jack, that wasn't for a mission, medical or training reasons?”

She could tell he was serious so she gave the question its proper consideration, casting her mind back. Eventually, she looked back at him. “You. Berlin, three months ago. You touched my chin.”

He nodded with an air of faint satisfaction. “I thought so.” She frowned a little, not seeing the relevancy, and he moved to explain.

“Your instincts are so geared towards threat because you are hardly ever touched by anyone outwith the parameters of training, medical and missions. So if anyone attempts to touch you outside of those categories your instincts automatically react as if they are a potential concern.”

She thought about that, and it made a horrible kind of sense. It was true that no-one apart from Jack and occasionally Yassen ever touched her casually. Not even Sagitta, although there it was part of their way of demonstrating their respect for her position. 

“But why am I reacting to like that to you _now_? I never have before.”

He shrugged. “We haven't spent a lot of time in physical proximity these last few years. We are in almost constant communication, yes. But we are physically around each other comparatively fleetingly. So I assume that the lack of proximity has translated into your instincts no longer categorising me as nonthreatening.” He looked almost amused. “Which just demonstrates that your instincts are working.” 

She smiled a little at that as well. It was true that in any room Yassen Gregorovich was likely to be the biggest threat present, even if he didn't look like it. But he also wasn't a true mortal threat to her either, and they both knew it. But also unspoken between them was the knowledge that she would do anything he wanted her to do, so if it was necessary for her to take a bullet for him, she would. As such, it was a complicated dynamic that neither chose to dwell on.

“It would not be a matter for concern except for the fact that if we are to continue your specialist training as we have previously discussed, having you react that way to my physical touch is likely to be,” he paused. “Awkward.”

She blanched as she thought about it, a little horrified. Talk about chronic understatement! It would be _more_ than a little awkward if she instinctively pulled away every time he went to touch her. It would be a disaster. And might have serious implications for their personal relationship. She had had to _work_ to persuade Yassen to help with this issue, if he felt that she was forcing herself to endure his touch during any of their sessions it would likely hit far too close to home with him, after his experiences. And that would probably lead to him stopping their lessons at the very least, or even to a permanent deterioration of their dynamic.

She looked up at him from under her drying mane of blond waves, brown eyes worried. “So how do we fix it? Can we fix it?”

“Do you _want_ to fix it?” he asked her, atypically gentle.

She looked both horrified and surprised. “Of course!” She frowned. “I'm not afraid of you, Yassen.” Then she grinned, just a little. “Well, not more than any sane person with an ounce of self preservation is anyway.”

He was amused despite himself and it showed in his eyes, even if not on his face.

“But, in all seriousness, I don't want my body telegraphing things that I don't feel inside my head. So what can I do to fix it?”

He leaned back on the couch. “Well, you were correct when you said that _we_ would need to fix it. This is not something you can fix by yourself.”

She regarded him expectantly, certain that he was going to propose a solution. He always had before. As usual, he didn't disappoint.

“Firstly, I will amend your assignment scheduling somewhat to ensure that you do not go for longer than six weeks without physically checking in with me. Ideally, I will try to assign you matters that shouldn't last any longer than that period in total, but as we both know circumstances change, and we have to be flexible.”

She nodded in agreement.

“Secondary, I will amend our personal scheduling to increase the time we spend together. Where before we may have briefed overnight before you went onto a new assignment, or I did, now I will schedule a full 24 or 48 hours whenever you report in. If you are reporting in half way through a matter you can work remotely from wherever I am for that period. If you have finished an assignment you can report in and then assist me with whatever I am dealing with at the time.” He looked at her sharply. “Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Being under his eye was no hardship. In fact the prospect of it made her feel a little nostalgic for when she was younger and more Orion, rather than his Second, and in his orbit on a regular basis.

“Good. And one last thing,” he very deliberately held her gaze. “I will be touching you more. A great deal more. The only way to blunt your instinctive reaction is proximity and familiarity. Essentially de-sensitisation. Which requires overt, obvious touch and for me to be frequently within the bubble of your personal space. Do you agree to this?”

Her skin prickled at the idea. Every touch from him in the last few months had been so loaded (even if only to her) that she didn't know how she was going to maintain her composure if he started touching her all the time. But that was still a better option than her body flinching away from him and then the feeling of crippling guilt that had accompanied the blank look on his face when she had.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.”

He looked at her for a moment, and then reached out with a hand, telegraphing his movements, slower than usual but without any hesitation. She stilled and fought the irritating urge to retreat back into the couch cushions. Her bloody reactions were _not_ going to get the better of her. He could undoubtedly tell the difficulty she was having from the stiffness in her body language but he didn't pause, instead tucked a hank of the heavy drying tumult of her hair behind her ear, and then swiped his fingertips down her cheek in one quick touch before pulling away from her, leaving her skin tingling and sensitive in his wake and her eyelashes fluttering shut. She just wasn't sure how much of that was due to her reactions and how much was due to....other factors. 

When she opened her eyes again a moment later he was looking at her, a question in his eyes.

“Okay?”

She nodded after a second. “Yes.” And it was, she realised. Her nerves were still jangling but the urge to retreat was muted. She gave an inward sigh of relief. Hopefully that was a good indicator that she would be able to get over this particular speed bump without too much difficulty. And maybe the proximity would also help her bring the other aspects of her reaction to Yassen under control as well.

“Good,” he turned back to his paperwork. “Finish your tea and go to bed, Alexandra. I have a gap in my schedule tomorrow at 13.00, so aim to have your report ready by then. I will not require you before then.” 

She hid her smile in her tea. He was essentially giving her permission to sleep in. He _must_ have been worried about her. But she didn't make an issue of it, just finished her tea as instructed and with a smile at him dragged herself to bed, and fell asleep almost instantly, the echo of his touch still tingling on her cheek. 

In some ways things changed after that night, and in others they didn't. It was more of a reset than a change, a shift back to their older dynamic when they were in each other's company far more often. Occasionally it was an inconvenience for Alex, especially when she was deep in an operation and would have to obey an imperious summons from Yassen and fly to wherever he was in order to check in. However, she also started to appreciate the way the forced removal from the front lines of whatever she was dealing with, even if only for 24 or so hours, would often allow her to review her operation from a more objective standpoint and to work on any issues that had arisen without interruption from the client or risks on the ground. 

The one thing that had changed of course, was the nature of her physical interactions with Yassen. He kept his word, as always, and although she had agreed to his invasion of her personal space she often found herself off balance from the systematic way he went about it. Initially because her reactions were still all over the place where he was concerned, but as the edges of that response became blunted by the frequency and proximity of their interactions, she found her other reaction to his casual touches became even stronger. It was a good thing that she had such extensive experience in maintaining a poker face under extreme provocation because if he knew just how badly he affected her she would have died from embarrassment. As it was she had to get used to the fact that her skin seemed to be determined to hold the sensory impressions of his touch like memory foam for hours afterwards. It was...distracting, and it didn't help her with her ongoing project to purely think of Yassen as her teacher and her boss. 

Especially when he didn't just put a hand on her shoulder or on her arm as part of his de-sensitisation programme. Instead he insisted on touching her skin, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck, the heat of his palm burning against her sensitive nape, cupping her chin or tucking her hair behind her ears when it was loose in the privacy of their suite in the evenings. Rather than always working from his desk in whatever hotel suite they were in, he started sitting beside her on the couch later on in the evenings, hardly any distance between them, and working on his own pile of documents as she worked on hers. It was strangely companionable, except for the fact that her entire body was aware of his closeness on a very basic level and increasingly it wasn't due to her reactions jangling 'threat'. 

It also didn't help that after a few scheduled check-ins he started using the time they were both ensconced on couches in various hotel suites to randomly quiz her on the additional reading he had assigned her in relation to her upcoming lessons. There was something a little maddening about having that calm, slightly accented voice demand that she explain the biochemical basis for attraction, or break down the theories noted in _Psycopathia Sexualis_ , or abstractly discuss Masters and Johnson as if he was discussing the latest import/export report from one of Scorpia's sub-divisions. It wasn't that they were discussing sex per se. It was that she was discussing _sex, with him_ , which was just messing with her increasingly feeble attempts to keep him in the box marked “Mentor and Boss” as opposed to....well, anything else really. 

But like everything else, familiarity tended to blunt the edges, plus once her body had decided to stop betraying her she found she had slipped back into something much closer to the dynamic she used to have with him when they were in close quarters. His presence had meant security for her for so many years now, and with the edges rubbed away on her reactions she relaxed into that feeling again so that while her skin still prickled at his nearness it was now just awareness, as opposed to her fight or flight reaction going haywire. She finally knew that his programming had been successful after she fell asleep next to him on their flight to Bogotá, Colombia, and completely failed to notice him shifting her into a more comfortable position while she slept. Yassen was to sign the final agreements on an deal she had been negotiating with one of the Cartels for the last six weeks but had wanted her to report to him first so that he was fully briefed before he made his entrance. So she had gone from the field to the jet, then reported to him in South Africa without much of a break, as she had been working on the flight over from South America Then it was back on the jet, the various members of Danube and Sagitta who weren't already on the ground in Bogotá accompanying them. 

By that time she was knackered, having been active for over 30 hours without sleep and she knew that she had to be back on her game when they landed back in Bogotá. But she didn't want to sleep just in case Yassen needed something. However, it was increasingly difficult not to give in to her fatigue, waves of exhaustion wafting over her, the softness of the couch she was curled up on hypnotically comfortable, the presence of Yassen at the other end of the stretch of seating a reassurance of security, of safety that was incredibly hard for her sub-conscious to resist. She managed to hold on to consciousness as they took off, but then he looked up from his briefing documents and over at her, eyes coolly assessing but not unkind as she blinked blearily at him.

“Alex.”

“Yes, sir?”

“How long has it been since you slept?”

It was the tone he used when he wouldn't accept any prevarication, brisk, to the point and she internally winced. There went any chance of trying to steer him away from the point. “Tuesday, I think,” she admitted honestly.

His expression of faint displeasure deepened. “It's now Thursday, Alexandra,” he pointed out with unassailable logic that didn't camouflage his disapproval. 

“Hhmm,” she replied, non-committally.

His eyebrow raised at her lack of proper response, clearly unimpressed. “We have had a discussion about the necessity of regular sleep before, Alex. I hope we do not have to repeat that experience?”

Internally, she shuddered. That “discussion” had been one of the more unpleasant experiences she had had to deal with since her last encounter with Dr Three. It wasn't one she was keen to repeat.

“No, sir. This has been an anomaly, I promise.”

He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her and she did her very best to look as sincere as possible. Which wasn't difficult, as she was actually sincere on this point, as Marcus would undoubtedly tell him if Yassen was to enquire. Since his educational “lesson” she had been conscientious about ensuring that 5 hours of sleep a night was prioritised, as were regular meals, even if they were wolfed down while she poured over reports. The only reason she had skipped this time was due the intense time zone disruption and accelerated pressure of the end of this assignment and she intended to make up for the lack as soon as possible. 

She still internally squirmed under the intent assessment in his gaze however, and fought against the urge to pull her ancient maroon hoody over the knees she had clasped to her chest in a futile attempt to protect herself from the intensity of his stare. She couldn't help her fingers from playing with the frayed cuffs of the oversized garment though, one of Marcus' that she had stolen years ago after he had lent it to her at the end of an operation that ended up messily, with her clothes splattered heavily with blood and other nameless substances. She had “forgotten” to give it back and he, with one of those tolerant, so very big brother, looks he gave her sometimes, had neglected to pursue the matter. She had managed to keep it for the last 4 years, operation to operation, and it had become her go to being-on-a-plane outfit, that and a pair of soft black leggings, especially when she was exhausted and in need of a little self care. 

Yassen had clearly noted this some time ago, but despite being fastidious to the point of OCD himself, hadn't insisted she find something more appropriate, more 2nd in Command of Scorpia for long plane flights. She supposed his reasoning was that the only people who ever saw her like this were him, Sagitta, and occasionally Danube, all of who would keep their mouth shut about a tiny weakness like a well loved outfit, so he could afford to let her get away with the occasional bout of horrendous taste in casual clothing. Even down to the ragged drawstrings dangling from the hoody's neck that she had teased into tangled messes over the years, which undoubtedly made him twitch. 

After a stare off that seemed to last for hours he dipped his head, releasing her and she sighed mentally in relief. “Well then, you have time to make it up now, at least. The flight is 19 hours long, Alex. Go to sleep now. I will wake you in 8 hours or so when I wish to sleep.”

“Don't you want me to be available for any questions you may have on the materials?”

He shook his head shortly. “Your briefing was comprehensive. And I can always ask you when you wake up. _Go to sleep, Alexandra_.”

It was clearly an order, and an order to do what she wanted desperately to do anyway, so she didn't protest any further, just curled upright into the corner of the couch and she was out within minutes, exhaustion carrying her away in waves.

Fifteen minutes later Yassen glanced over at her sleeping form and bit back the trace of a smile. She was huddled upright in the corner of the couch, but already listing in his direction, and if she stayed at that angle she was going to wake up completely stiff, which would be detrimental. He glanced briefly around at the rest of the plane, but Sagitta and Danube were all stationed at the other end of the cabin so there was no one to see as he reached across the table to other matching couch, grabbed one of the throw cushions and dropped it on the couch next to where he was sitting. Then he reached out to clasp her shoulders where she was awkwardly curled up at a weird gravity defying 45 degree angle across the back of the couch. She didn't even stir as he manhandled her down until she was lying on her side across the length of the couch, head pillowed on the cushion next to him, except to sigh and curl in a little to herself. 

She was completely unconscious, and it reminded him abruptly of the very early days when it had just been the two of them in that cabin in the woods in Russia, where he would frequently find her asleep where ever she had happened to drop as a result of the absolute exhaustion caused by his training regime. On the couch, or head pillowed on her arms on the kitchen table, or once memorably on the floor, as though she had simply collapsed in place like a puppet with its strings cut. He had become very familiar in those days with ordering her to bed, waking her up and sending her stumbling on her way, all silent sleepiness. 

So not that much had changed then. Her hair was escaping its braid, and some of the strands were falling across her face, covering her nose and mouth. Automatically, he reached out to tuck them behind her ears, absent-mindedly scanning the elegant lines of her features, the high cheekbones, the length of her neck, the dark rose pout of her mouth, the bottom lip enticingly adult and kissable. Not much had changed in some ways, but other things had.

She'd been scrawny then, all huge eyes and that terrible boy's haircut, an androgynous creature of lines and angles,whipcord and surprising steel, and so very, very wary of him. So quiet, stripped of that fragile bravado that he had seen her display in the field by the weight of the silence of the taiga stretching all around the cabin, the enormity of what she had agreed to, even under considerable duress, and the knowledge of how desperately important it was for her continuing survival to be able to meet the goals he set her. 

She'd hardly spoken a word to him for the first six weeks, unless it was to acknowledge a command or to clarify a task, just obeyed his orders and then curled up in a ball on the couch at the end of the day if he insisted she stay in the living room and prevented her from retreating to her room. She'd been so very, very still and silent, watching his every move like a needle clawed kitten in the presence of a much larger predator, just waiting for him to take a swipe at her. It was why he was so adept at reading her body language to this day, he had had to be, because she had been so reticent otherwise. 

He can still remember with acute clarity the first time he saw her genuinely smile, 3 months into their seclusion, a shy, lovely curve of lips even on a face of a girl who hadn't really grown into her adult features yet, and he remembered that he had treasured it, less for the smile itself than what it signified, that she had grown to trust him enough that she could afford to relax her vigilance, just for a moment. 

She still smiled in that unexpectedly sweet way when she truly smiled. Although he knew that only he, Jack, Tom and some members of Sagitta were permitted to see both that smile, and the underlying sweetness that lay beneath the lethal creature he had moulded and tempered out of the raw metal Ian Rider had created and MI6 had started to shape. He hadn't even had to break her to do so, as he had been concerned that he might. Instead she had been supremely adaptable, and just as pragmatic as he could have wanted. There had been moments over the years where she had baulked yes, but it had been unfamiliarity rather than fits of teenage rebellion, and as long as he had taken the time to explain to her why something was necessary, why the other options weren't really options, and to break down exactly what needed to be done she had been able to swallow her doubts and follow his directions without unacceptable hesitancy. The only true issues he had ever had with Alex was when she either tried too hard to please him, to the detriment of her own well-being, or the very few times when her overdeveloped sense of responsibility for the few people she allowed herself to care for took over, and she deliberately put herself in harm's way to protect them. And although those few incidents had worried and frustrated him at the time, those reactions were what made her _Alex_ , and were a strangely reassuring sign that Hunter's stubborn, fiercely loving child still existed under the thick skin of Orion, with her deadly competence and brutal pragmatism. 

He absent-mindedly stroked another strand of errant hair away from her cheek again as he studied the adult features of her face. She wasn't a child any more, hadn't been one in truth for a long time now, since she'd been thrust into the world they both lived in by M16 when she was 14 years old. But there had been some part of him that had refused to acknowledge that change, that was still a little surprised when she reported to him and he saw Alex's eyes set in that planed and classically beautiful facade. Undoubtedly, a woman's face, not a child's. She was 19 now, nearly 20, the same age as he had been when he had first entered Scorpia and god knows he hadn't been a child himself any more at that age. Young, yes, but not a child. And he had been far more inexperienced than Alex was now.

The needle clawed kitten from the cabin had grown up, and not just into the Cub that the SAS had nicknamed her at Brecon Beacons, but into a lioness (or sometimes, a striking snake, and it was those times that even those closest to her trod carefully), a golden predator far more deadly than even 99% of the other predators she regularly encountered while she padded gracefully through their shadow world. So if she wasn't a child any more on every other scale it was past time he stopped treating her as one in any arena. 

And that included sex. 

Although he would never admit it to anyone else, he had been putting off the moment when their agreed lesson plan would switch from the theory to the practical. Her unexpected reaction to him, months ago now, had allowed him to slow down any prospective timetable for that implementation and he had refused to think about the sliver of relief that had coursed through his veins at the delay. But that excuse was gone now, as was proven by the way she was sleeping bonelessly next to him, not even stirring as he had manoeuvred her body into a more comfortable position. If her trained instinct had still registered him as a threat she would have woken the instant he touched her, but instead she had been relaxed and unresisting in his grasp, content, even when unconscious, to entrust her safety into his hands. 

So he had no further legitimate reason to delay. But what the last few months had confirmed for him was that it wasn't going to be possible for him to take Alex into his bed and treat her like a mark, like a task, in the way he had been brutally instructed to do so by the Swallows at Malagosto, so many years ago now. He had touched her over and over again over the last weeks and months, and every time he had felt it, the way that she stilled and shivered under his hands, the incline of her body towards him, the way she was prepared to just give herself over to him entirely and it was infuriatingly arousing every time, hitting him right in that part of him that whispered _mine_ and urged him to complete his claim, until she wouldn't ever think to leave.

He had conditioned her, but he was self aware enough to acknowledge that over the years there had been a certain amount of conditioning on his side as well. He cared for her in a way that wasn't just about the investment both he and Scorpia had made in her, as more than just John Rider's brilliant, damaged child, or as his Second or Scorpia's Heir in Training. He cared for _Alex_ , the girl/woman underneath all those labels and blood soaked skills, the girl who looked at him with open trust in those deep, hazel flecked brown eyes, who fell asleep on his shoulder with a limpness of a child, who picked up on the small things he silently found amusing when no one else would know where to look. And yes, it was a weakness, but it was a weakness he had minimised by making sure that she was in such a position that if anyone ever realised how much he cared for her on a personal level they would still have to risk the consequences of injuring Scorpia's chosen heir in order to hurt her. It had been the best possible protection he could give her. 

But now he had to face the fact that the person she may be in most danger from, was him. He wasn't a kind man, or a gentle one, but the small semblance of a conscience he had left had pulled and tugged at the issue, how to get through these lessons without giving into that part of himself that simply wanted to possess her, to make it impossible for any one else to ever match up. But the only way to do that would be to wholly detach, to be methodical and clinical as he taught her, put on a mask and perform as though she was simply another task, another mark to fuck. And he knew her well enough to know that doing so would hurt her, injure their dynamic, weaken the trust between them, which was something that he was extremely reluctant to do. Just having her flinch away from him once had been a gut punch, to have her hate his touch but be forced to bear it would be the Swallows course at Malagosto for him all over again, with him in the position of the instructors who he had obeyed and loathed with every fibre of his being. 

And even he had limits to the things he was willing to endure. 

So he would have to do this as himself, as the Yassen she knew, but try at the same time not to give in to his deeper, darker instincts. Teach her, show her how it could be, but not ruin her for anyone else. Try and maintain a balance so that when they finished she could still thank him with a smile but be able to walk away from him if she wished, find another lover if she wanted, and not always feel like they weren't matching up to what he had shown her. It would be a difficult balance for him, to teeter between desire and control, but as he stroked another strand of hair away from her sleeping face, the warmth of her cheek burning against his fingertips like a brand, he knew it was one he was going to have to try to maintain. For both of their sakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Please review!_

**Author's Note:**

> _Please review!_


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